A Necklace's Story
by TomFoolery
Summary: From husband to wife, mother to son, boyfriend to girlfriend, and beyond, a story about the many ways we love, as told through a necklace. (My take on the necklace featured in Star Trek Beyond.)


**2228  
** Sentimentality was illogical. It puzzled Sarek how humans could attach emotional value to inanimate objects. His wife was human, and she also possessed this idiosyncrasy.

The opal was a unique mineral, made of hydrated amorphous silica, colored blue-black with irregular plays of dazzling yellow, red, and green throughout. He knew little of how to assign monetary value to precious stones, yet Amanda had explained that the size and vibrancy of her gem made it quite valuable.

The pendant had been in her family for generations, originating with a female ancestor who emigrated from a Terran region known as Australia, where the gemstone was common. Amanda's father had bequeathed the necklace to her upon his death, and for that reason, it seemed to carry additional worth to her that could not be objectively quantified. She never removed it, but often caressed it when she was deep in reflection, or clutched it firmly when she was anxious or angry.

One evening during a conference on Andoria, they were in their quarters preparing for bed when she noticed her opal pendant was missing. They scoured the room and later the hotel and conference center, but her necklace was gone.

She had exerted remarkable effort to conceal her tears and sadness from him, but he knew through their shared bond that the loss of this piece of jewelry affected her in a profound way. He knew her well enough to understand that it would be fruitless, counterproductive even, to discuss the illogic of her grief with her.

They returned to Vulcan two days later and as the weeks passed, the necklace faded into memory. Yet he noticed that she still reached for her throat when she was deep in thought, her fingers acting on instinct to grope for the lost pendant.

So he did what he presumed was logical and visited a jeweler to find a suitable replacement. He browsed the selection of stones and minerals at length and found nothing that seemed correct until the very last case.

The stone was vokaya. It was generally used in manufacturing due to its mild radioactive properties, but this particular stone was of unsurpassed quality. It was slightly larger than Amanda's opal had been but it had many striking similarities, particularly the vibrant, blue color.

When he presented it to her that evening, she began to cry. At first he believed she was unhappy with his selection and he offered to return it, but she promptly told him to "shut up."

She wiped away her tears and kissed him and from that day forward, she never removed the necklace but often caressed it with her fingers and smiled.

* * *

 **2258  
** Amanda and Spock walked along the streets of San Francisco in silence. She didn't get to visit Earth or her son nearly as often as she wanted, so she took intense delight in seeing him that evening.

They had just come from a meal with a very lovely young woman named Nyota; Amanda marveled at how fast her little boy had grown up. Spock and Nyota insisted they were only acquaintances, but Amanda knew better. She often had trouble understanding her son's feelings, but she could see Nyota's plainly enough. Hopefully one day they would realize they liked one another as more than "just acquaintances" but for now, she was content enough to know that Spock had someone who cared for him.

Spock was his father's son, Vulcan through and through. The two of them hadn't spoken since Spock had chosen to join Starfleet, and the rift that was growing between them broke her heart. The one thing that brought her relief was seeing Spock becoming his own man, making his own friends, and even growing attached to a woman. A _human_ woman. Yes, Spock and Sarek were more alike than they would ever admit.

"I really liked Miss Uhura," she probed. "I wish you would introduce me to more of your _acquaintances_."

"As I already informed you, mother, I was her advisor for a brief period, that is all."

" _Oh_ ," she said, delivering a knowing nod. "Well, tomorrow is Valentine's Day."

Spock raised an eyebrow and turned to face her. "An antiquated human holiday associated with the consumption of chocolate and the obligatory purchase of flowers for one's mate."

"Well, _yes_ , I guess that sums it up pretty well," Amanda laughed.

They finally arrived at the diplomatic hotel, and as Spock prepared to bid her goodbye, she felt unexpected anxiety pooling deep in her belly. She missed her son terribly, and with _her_ life on Vulcan and _his_ life in Starfleet, it was difficult to know if or when she would ever see him again.

She felt for the familiar vokaya necklace, paused, and then reached behind her neck to unclasp it. Spock offered a questioning look. She held it in her palm, studying the brilliant colors and fighting through the strain of her conflict.

She loved Sarek and this necklace was a representation of that, but she loved her son _too_ , and her son was slowly falling in love with Nyota Uhura. This necklace had been like a companion over the years, but mixed in with her sentiment and nostalgia was the understanding that this piece of jewelry deserved a place in another love story.

"Here," she said, holding it out to Spock before she could change her mind.

He extended a hand to accept it, looking to her for further clarification.

"Tomorrow is Valentine's Day," she repeated.

"I do not require a gift," he said slowly. "I am-"

"The necklace isn't for _you_ ," she interrupted with a knowing smile.

She couldn't be certain who the ultimate recipient of the vokaya pendant would be, but she had a sneaking suspicion it would one day be draped around Miss Uhura's neck.

Spock opened his mouth to protest but seemed to think better of it at the last moment, instead choosing to tuck the amulet into his pocket. They said their goodbyes and as she walked the long corridor of the hotel back to her room, an impulse drove her to reach for the necklace at her throat. It wasn't there, but that was fine.

That night would be the last quiet moment she would spend with her son, just the two of them, before her death several months later.

* * *

 **2260  
** Spock sat alone in his quarters, observing the vokaya amulet. The _Enterprise_ was five months into its five-year mission, deep into uncharted space.

Today was Valentine's Day, and though it was a holiday that held no particular meaning for him, he knew it mattered to many of his human crewmates. It mattered to _Nyota_.

She had claimed it was a "stupid holiday" and that she didn't want to do anything special, yet he sensed that was untrue. He'd overheard her speaking with Christine Chapel about the nurse's plans for a romantic evening with a crewman in engineering and he could see the longing in Nyota's face.

He examined the amulet and thought of his mother – this necklace was the only thing of hers that remained to him. Sentiment for this object was illogical, yet he found himself hesitant to part with it.

A buzzing sound interrupted his thoughts. He pushed the jewelry into his pocket and greeted her at the door.

"What's up?" she murmured.

She'd just completed a double shift on the bridge, one she'd volunteered for to allow the communications officer on beta shift the opportunity to spend the evening with his girlfriend. It was now 2300 hours and she carried dark circles under her eyes and a hoarse timbre in her voice.

He'd asked her to visit him here with no further explanation. He'd arranged for a quiet dinner, but her exhausted and casual tone now caused him to question his plan. She saw the table setting with the salads and gasped.

"I thought perhaps we might share a meal together," he explained. "But if you do not wish to-"

"I'd _love_ to." She grinned and quickly met his gaze, which caused her smile to broaden further. They sat down to their salads and talked of nothing of consequence for the next two hours. Her company so often pleased him and he was growing to understand how deeply he cared for her.

" _The necklace isn't for you_ ," his mother had said.

It was the only piece of Amanda he had left, and she'd given it to him for this very holiday two years earlier, ostensibly to give to the woman now sitting across from him. He loved his mother, but he now realized just how much he loved Nyota as well.

When it had grown quite late, Nyota insisted on returning to her quarters. He walked her to the door and as she stood on her tiptoes to kiss him goodbye, and his hand traveled to the amulet in his left pocket. It was only right to part with it now. He extracted it and held it out in his palm.

"This belonged to my mother," he began.

"It's very beautiful," she remarked.

"I would like to give it to you."

Her face fell and he wondered if perhaps he'd made an error in his choice of gift.

"Spock, it's _so_ beautiful, but I just _couldn't_ ," she stammered. "I don't think I could take something like that away from you; you know, something that was your _mom's_."

"My mother wanted you to have it," he explained. "When you met her two years ago, she gave me this to present to you."

Moisture collected in the corners of Nyota's eyes and she kissed him again.

"Will you accept it?" he asked.

"Are you _sure_?"

"It is only an object," he replied. "One that I believe held a significant meaning to my mother, as she wore every day. I do not believe its function is best served in my utility locker."

She held her hair up while he fastened the necklace in place. Her hand explored the pendant with idle grace, just as his mother's had always done.

"I'll treasure it forever," she smiled. "I love you, Spock."

And he loved her too. It was the first time they'd ever spoken such words, but it wouldn't be the last.

* * *

 **2272  
** Lyra stood outside the massive stone building, feeling the weight of her bag on her shoulders. Her father would say that her trepidation was illogical, but she never liked starting at a new school. Being seven years old and the child of parents in Starfleet hadn't ever been easy.

She looked up at her mother, waiting for the unsolicited comfort that was sure to come.

"You'll be fine," she said to Lyra.

"Fine" had variable definitions. "Fine" was unacceptable.

"Yes, I know," Lyra replied.

Unfortunately, the confidence she had been attempting to project was failing and her voice came out as a squeak. She began to take several nervous steps forward, but her mother gently took her by the hand.

"It's ok to be nervous," her mother said, bending down on one knee.

Lyra wanted to argue the point, but she could not deny the truth. She _was_ nervous. It would be illogical to refuse her mother's counsel, even if that counsel was based on sentiment.

Lyra often found friendships difficult to forge, but it was a task she was developing a moderate proficiency in, since this was already her third school in her short life.

Lyra noticed her mother's face was firmly set and tears were brimming in her eyes. She disliked it when her mother cried, and she watched her grope at the pendant around her neck like she always did when her mind wandered.

"I know this isn't easy for you," she said. "It's not easy for _me_ either, sending you off to a bunch of strangers all day."

Lyra was prepared to comment on her mother's unusual implication that she never intended for her daughter to grow up and attain independence, but noticed her mother's fingers had stopped tracing over the bright blue mineral stone at her throat.

"Here," she said, fumbling to remove the jewelry from its usual post.

"Didn't father give you that?" she asked.

She'd never seen her mother take it off, but had always noticed her tendency to reach for it when she was deep in thought or particularly emotional.

"He did," her mother replied. "But I want _you_ to have it now."

She fastened it around Lyra's neck.

"Thank you, mother," she said, glancing down to observe the shiny blue stone.

They went into her new school together and said their goodbyes at the administration office. She was on her own now, once again.

The school's principal walked her into her new classroom, and she gripped her new necklace and took a deep breath. Ten pairs of human eyes studied her, and she began to try and repress the anxiety budding within her, just as her father had taught her to do. Among her human classmates was a lone Andorian girl and Lyra felt a strange wash of relief.

It could be hard being different, but at least at _this_ school, she wasn't going to be different alone. She took up a seat next to her Andorian classmate and introduced herself.

Her new friend was called Yana, and Lyra immediately noticed a bright blue stone around her neck, smaller than hers but remarkably similar.

"My mother gave this to me," Yana explained, gently touching her own necklace. "My grandfather found it in a soup dish at a conference years ago. I believe the stone comes from Earth: it's called an opal. My mother says every piece of jewelry has a story. Tell me about yours."


End file.
